


Just a Photograph

by DeathDrayanD



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, F/M, Hallucinations, Possible Character Death, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDrayanD/pseuds/DeathDrayanD
Summary: After Gregor left the Underland, his mom sent him back to school, back to his old, normal life. But will he ever become normal after everything that had happened, after everything he had done?Note: This is just a vent I had when something bad had happened to me. The words I say are merely to bring all that anger in word form and also as a fanfiction. I am not going to be, and do not to want to be offending anyone, and if I do, I apologize.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a vent I had. Please don't take any words I have written to heart. I don't want others to feel bad about me. Just want to put something off my chest. Enjoy my first ever three-parter.
> 
> Disclaimer (if you haven't read the summary): This will contain self-harm acts with dark and twisted thoughts, so prepare your imagination (or brace yourselves, whatever you want). Everything that I write here is not and should not be promoted. You have been warned. Twice.
> 
> Started writing this on the 7th of October 2016. Wrote this whenever I'm angry/mad.
> 
> This will be in Gregor's first-person perspective.

I couldn't sleep. I was tired, but still couldn't sleep. Tomorrow was supposed to be a big day for me, but I didn't feel the least bit excited. I felt less emotional. More emotionless. I didn't want to remember why and how it happened, but my brain replayed the scenes anyway.

** *One week ago* **

A few days after we had left the Underland ('for good', Mom had said), Mom immediately talked about the situation, after gathering everyone, except Grandma and Boots, to the dinner table.

"Now," she started, clasping her hands together. "I've been thinking a lot about this. On what we should do after...  _that_." She released her hands from her grip and drummed two of her fingers on the table. We all knew what that meant.

"We're not going to Virginia." Both Lizzie and I brightened up immensely.

"But..." She took a deep breath and turned her face to Lizzie. "Lizzie, you will be going back to school next week."

Lizzie looked like she wanted to say something, but hesitated.

Mom took that hesitation to her advantage and looked at me straight in the eyes, almost glaring at me. I had a bad feeling. I gave her a confused frown.

"Same goes to you, Gregor."

That was when I lost it.

" _WHAT!?_ "

My legs automatically straightened as my hands slammed down onto the table. Luckily, no objects were on the table. Lizzie recoiled in shock. Dad shifted his gaze to his feet and shut his eyes, almost like he was praying.

Mom stood up as well, but had to tilt her head up to meet my face, as I had grown taller after those events. "It's for your own sake! I don't want my son to stay at home and only think about that- that place all day! I need you to move on! To be normal again!"

My hands curled into fists. "Do you think I can ever be normal in a WEEK!? After what I have been through!?"

"After what  _you_  have been through?!" She mocked, extending her arms to indicate our apartment. "This whole family has been a wreck ever since we went down there! Because of that, your father became sick! Boots talks to cockroaches! Lizzie talks to rats! I almost died!"

Tears started to flow down Mom's red cheeks. My stomach lurched. I could deal with Mom being angry, but Mom being angry and sad at the same time was almost too much to take. I had almost regretted my words, but I wasn't done.

"But the Underlanders cured you! They gave Dad medicine! We have more money! We--"

"I don't care about that! Either go to school, or I'll force you to."

"You can't do that to me! You can't!"

"I already have."

Those three words alone stunned me. What did she mean? Did she mean that... Had she already arranged a school for me? Without my consent?

My rage was dramatically increasing. My head slowly turned to Dad, whose back seemed to be hunched even more than before. "Dad? Is that true?"

The silence proved it. I was too afraid to ask what I wanted to ask, but my lips did it anyway, moving on its own.

"Why didn't you stop her?"

That was when his head shot up to me; his eyes all red and puffy. His face revealed all the answers I needed to know.

Anger rose to the peak of my emotions. My vision blurred and only focused on two people. Mom and Dad. I knew what it was. It was the all-too-familiar rager sensation. Ripred had warned me about it, but I had not listened. This was the consequence I had to bear.

"No." I staggered back, unable to take in any of it. "I- I don't want this." My voice was as shaky as my hands were. I didn't want to physically hurt them. I just wanted to prove my point.

"Gregor..." Dad said softly, almost weakly. The buzzing in my head became louder and louder. The urge was getting stronger. I resisted and fled to my room, slamming the door in the process, accidentally waking a sleeping Boots.

But I didn't care. I knelt down on the floor, fighting the urge. Saliva and sweat dripped out of my mouth and face.

_Fight it, fight it. Control it. Don't give in to it._

I didn't, but I barely did so. My mind was flooded with pure anger. It hurt so much. Somehow, between the mess of my head, I heard the voice of Ripred.

What's your plan?

_What's my plan? My plan... is to control this ... this 'power'. This curse._

Then what are you waiting for, boy?

_I'm trying! It's not working!_

I could've sworn I heard a snap, which sounded awfully like Ripred's tail slapping the ground whenever he threatens me or wants me to pay attention.

Try harder, boy! Look around you!

I did. I looked around, scanning my surroundings. I saw my bed, a pile of clothes, my desk and the lamp on my desk. Nothing I could use.

A knock on the door startled me.

"Gregor?" A soft and timid voice. I realized that it was Lizzie. I didn't answer. I couldn't answer.

"Dinner's ready." A pause. No answer came out of my mouth. She continued. "If you don't want to come out, I'll just leave it here."

There was a tap on the floor, and a tray of food with utensils was slid under my door.

Like a guard feeding a prison inmate.

Dark humor. I didn't know I had it in me.

Another tap, then a soft bump on the door.

Another pause, then "I miss Ripred."

A chuckle. "You know, I was confused when Ripred took care of me. He was mean to others, but not to me. I always wondered why." A sharp inhale. "Then, I knew. He told me. He told me that I looked like one of his pups. The pup that he lost. All three of them." A sob. "He told me to keep that a secret from you. He didn't want your pity, he had said." A mix of crying and laughing. "It's funny, isn't it? He told me not to, but I'm telling you." Another sob. "I miss Ripred. I love him too. You do too, right? But I know you miss and love her more. Luxa. You love her, don't you?"

I wanted to reply 'I do.', but my mouth was too dry to swallow, much less speak.

Two taps. "I need to go to sleep. Mom will kill me if I don't." A deep breath. "I just want you to know that, whatever you said just now, wasn't your fault. You did what you thought was right." Another pause. "See you next morning." And then there was no more talking, and I was alone again, accompanied by the constant buzzing.

I eyed at the tray of food. It looked delicious. I wanted to eat, but I had to deal with this first. My vision was then forced to focus on the two utensils: The sharp, pointed fork, and the dull, rounded spoon.

I suddenly had a crazy idea. I crawled to the tray and grabbed the fork. It gleamed under the light, triggering a memory of Sandwich's -- no -- my sword. Using my rager senses, I aimed it at one particular spot of my arm and stabbed it in.

The pain came first, before my silent scream. Even after the many fights I had, I still felt pain. It was lesser than I thought, but still painful nonetheless. My brain pulsed, then the buzzing became softer, if only a little.

_It worked! It works!_

Driven by determination, I continued, now scratching the skin of my arm with the razor sharp blades and ignoring the blood that flowed so freely.

Painful, but working. Working. Keep on working. Work my way through. Work it out.

After multiple small cuts, the buzzing finally stopped. I laid there on the ground, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. The blood on most of my wounds had dried. I was too tired to wipe them off. I was too tired to eat. I was too tired to move. So, I slept on the floor.

*

Both a knock and a buzz awoke me.

"May I come in?" It was Dad.

"No," I replied, too afraid to let him enter. The buzzing was heightening. My voice was hoarse, I realized.

But he didn't hear me and opened the door. His feet kicked the tray of stale food. He slowly looked up, his face contorting to worry and shock.

"You didn't eat," he said, as if it wasn't obvious enough.

"No," I said, clearer this time.

He was about to say something but stopped once he had opened his mouth. He hobbled up to me, sat in front of me and gave me a bowl of cereal.

"Here. Figured you were hungry."

I silently accepted it and wolfed it all down in several big munches, slamming down the bowl onto the floor when I was done and accidentally cracking it.

An awkward silence ensued. Dad seemed confused and amused at the same time while I hated myself for that action. It proved that I still couldn't control it. I looked away in annoyance and embarrassment.

"So...", he said, breaking the silence. "What happened to your arm?"

Upon hearing those words, I instantly hid my left arm to my back, but I was too late. The damage had been done. He had seen it.

"I- I fell." It was a lame excuse, but I had to try.

"Gregor." His tone and voice softened. The buzzing became louder. No! Not this again! "Please don't lie to me."

I put on a fake smile, trying to buy time for both of us. "No really, I fell! I ran into my room and, you know, tripped."

His frail hands firmly grabbed my shoulders. The buzzing dramatically increased in both amplitude and pitch. My surroundings dimmed and I was only focused on him. On Dad. The target I didn't want to target.

"Gregor. Don't lie to me." The 'please' was gone.

Dark thoughts started to flood my mind. I imagined tearing off his arms one by one as he screamed in pain. I imagined him choking in fear as I squeezed his throat. I imagined his death, not by sickness, but by my own two hands.

I shook my head, willing them to stop. No more. I do no harm. I do no more harm.

But Dad took it the wrong way. He shook my shoulders. Intentions to kill was being carved inside my head. No no no no no!

"Gregor. Tell me. I need to know." The usual gentle voice of Dad was replaced by this... this distorted voice.

His words echoed in my mind in different sequences. "Tell me. I need to know. Gregor. I need to know. Gregor. Need to know. Gregor. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me."

Soon, only two words repeated over and over again, but this time more ... aggressive and demonic.

" _TELL ME! TELL ME! TELL ME!_ "

Covering my ears in desperation, I shook my head more violently and constantly mumbled.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Gregor?"

Something in me snapped. I shoved him onto the floor and pinned him down on the neck with my free hand.

"Gre...gor!" choked the person whose face was blurry.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! I'll kill you! I'll kill you if you don't!"

To prove it, I used the bloodstained fork on my other hand to scratch his cheek. It drew blood, leaving four claw marks on it.

He screamed, then coughed, then screamed and coughed and gasped for air. I screamed together with him, but it was combined with laughter. Maniacal laughter. My maniacal laughter.

Then, I heard footsteps, advancing towards the room. There was a shout among the screams and laughs.

"What in the world is going -- "

The feminine voice got cut off. I looked up. A person was at the door; her face filled with horror and fear. Mom. My new target.   
My laughter stopped and turned into a devilish grin. I abandoned the still body below me and went straight for her, like a predator aiming for its prey.

She screamed just like him and tried to shut the door, but I was faster. I flung the fork towards her arm, penetrating her skin. She shrieked in pain and let go of the knob, giving me time to push her down and clamp her mouth shut.

She resisted, but I was so much stronger. I felt teeth chomp my hand. The buzzing became softer. It didn't hurt, but I still felt it.

"Let go! Let me go!"

But she didn't listen. Annoyed by her persistence, I slapped her on the face, hard. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her jaw opened. I swiftly removed my hand away from the mad dog and slapped her again. And again. And again.

She was a mad dog. An animal. A being under me. Those beings who attack their superior deserved to be punished.

Her cheeks became red and swollen, with tears running down her face. She was crying. Again.

I grabbed her by the collar and shouted, "Stop crying! I don't want to see you cry!"

As I said that, my vision became blurred, with some liquid coming out of my eyes. I was crying. Why was I crying?

When I had finished that thought, a voice called out. "Gregor? What are you and mama doing?"

My head whipped up to see two blurry figures. I wiped my tears and stared harder. It was Lizzie and Boots. Sweet, innocent Boots, and horrified Lizzie, staring at their brother beating their mother.

My mind was being ravaged, hungry for more violence, more bloodshed. It aimed for the youngest: Boots.

_No! Not her! Please, no!_

I backtracked towards my bed and wrapped myself in my blanket, trying to get away from them to prevent them from being hurt. But my mind throbbed and throbbed, trying to weaken my will to stop. It was a headache. Before I lose myself, I needed to warn them.

"Lizzie!" I shouted between grunts. "Call .. an ambulance! Get Mom and Dad ... away from me!"

She feverishly nodded and did her best to drag Mom and Dad out of my room, getting Boots to look away first and smartly closing the door.

Buzzing, buzzing, and even more buzzing. It was like a million wasps stinging my head. I slammed my head onto the wall continuously. I didn't care about the blood. I didn't care about the pain. I just kept hitting.

I felt dizzy after countless times. Good. I can't hurt anyone when I'm unconscious. I slumped onto my bed and fainted as I heard the faint wails of sirens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter still has dark thoughts and self-harm (and I think it's more extreme than the previous chapter). If you are uncomfortable with either or both, I would advise you to not read this. If you don't care or are a sadist (like me), however, feel free and enjoy to your heart's (if you have one) content.

When I awoke, I was in a different place. The ceiling seemed familiar. The bed was more comfortable. There was something on my forehead. A strong smell wafted in the air.

I tried to lift my head up, but the pain kept me down. My left arm was especially sore. I moved my right arm to my forehead and touched whatever was on there. It was soft and felt like tissue.

Just then, I heard a creak. I shifted my head towards the noise just in time to see ... a green-skinned, ugly woman wearing black clothes and a pointed hat, opening the door with a giant steaming pot in her hands.

Panic and shock engulfed me, giving my body the adrenaline to back away from her and myself the power to scream.

"AAAHH! A WITCH!"

The witch then stared at me blankly for a moment before laughing out loud, but it wasn't an evil cackle like I had expected it to be. It was a hearty laugh of hilarity.

"Oh, young man. I didn't think I would look like one!"

That voice! I've heard it before! It was... Mrs. Cormaci!

Right after that thought, the witch turned less terrifying, and to the neighbor I knew.

I laughed at myself, joining in her laughter. Who would've thought that I would see Mrs. Cormaci as a witch in one of Boots' picture books.

My smile vanished as reality hit me in that instant. Wait, where's Boots? Why was I at Mrs. Cormaci's home?

Then, the memories came back to me like a tidal wave. Regretting that I couldn't remember sooner, I hugged my legs and clenched my hands as tight as they could onto my sleeves, ignoring the agonizing pain in my head.

What have I done?

Mrs. Cormaci startled me by slamming her pot beside the bed I was sitting on.

"Now, I know you have a lot of questions. But you'll have to satisfy your stomach first."

As if on cue, my stomach growled. So the strong smell I had smelt was the steaming hot food in the pot. My mouth and eyes watered.

"But you -- "

She placed a finger on my lips. "Shh. No talking." She scooped a large portion of porridge, carefully poured it into a bowl,  and showed me a spoonful. "Eat."

I opened my mouth again to speak again but was interrupted by her once again, this time shoving the ladle into my mouth.

I instinctively swallowed. I felt the warm food slide down my throat. It was absolutely delicious. I snatched the bowl away from her and wolfed down the whole thing as quickly as I could. I almost choked.

"Th - Thank you. But ... you should leave now," I said, reverting back to my leg hugging position and trying to hide my face. I didn't ask any questions because I didn't want to. The splitting headache was still there, now joined with the buzz.

"Yes, I think I should. But first, I have to tell you which medicine is for which injury."

I shook my head. "No need. No medicine can cure it."

"I suppose so, but -- "

"Mrs. Cormaci. Please. I'm begging you."

There was a pause. "Well, alright then. If you're still hungry after finishing that pot, tell me. I'll be checking in every now and then."

I shook my head again, but she didn't see it. She was already heading for the door, away from me.

Once the door was shut, it was just me again. The crazy boy who had assaulted his parents was alone in whatever this room was.

Suddenly, the buzz went up a notch.  _No! Not again!_

I desperately looked around, trying to find a sharp object that I could use. But there was none.

_Okay, okay. My body is a weapon. But what parts of it are? My fingernails? No, they were too short to deal any damage. What do I do? What can I do?_

I licked my dry lips. My tongue slid across my teeth, grazing it.

_Wait, that's it! Teeth!_

I lifted my right arm and chomped into it, drawing blood again. It muffled my scream of pain. Memories of Mom doing exactly that flashed before my eyes, but I forcefully pushed those away, biting deeper into my arm. My fingers were in a spasm. The buzz dulled. But not enough.

I released my grip and stared at the result. Blood was mixed with saliva. It looked like it could come off at any moment.

That gave me an idea.  _Could I do it? Yes. Should I do it?_

Without even thinking about the answer to that question, I grabbed the chunk of meat with my jaws and ripped it off. The pain was so much more than expected. I managed out a small cry. The taste of my flesh was awful. I spat it out onto the floor, disgusted. The buzz stopped, for now.

Breathing heavily, I glared at my arm, which stung a lot. I could see my bones exposed, and my vessels were squirting out blood repeatedly.

The sight was repulsive. I quickly bandaged it and distracted myself with another two bowls of porridge, to relieve the metallic taste on my tongue and the agonizing pain.

As I ate, I thought about my family. Were they okay? Did Lizzie send them to the hospital on time? But those questions made me think of the worst-case scenario. I imagined Mom and Dad, lying on their beds with their eyes wide open, never moving. Lifeless. Dead.

I vomited the last scoop of porridge I had just consumed into the bowl. No, no, no. Not that. They can't die. They won't die.

_Right?_

I slammed my hands into the sides of my head, earning another headache. It wasn't the familiar rager buzz, luckily.

No more of those thoughts.

I forced my mind to think of something else, but that dark thought was lurking around, searching for a way to haunt me.

Mrs. Cormaci. Yes, her. She brought me to her home. She cared for me.

But how much did she know?

A part of me hoped she would come in, but a part of me didn't. I wanted answers, but I also didn't want questions.

I examined the room. It was much neater and cleaner than my own room. I read the time on a wall clock. It was 7 P.M. I had been sleeping for the more than a day.

I had presumed that the room was Mr. Cormaci's. I was right, as portraits of him were hung on the wall, with military and baseball stuff decorated around the room.

I took a long look at one of the portraits. It showed younger versions of both Mr. and Mrs. Cormaci, smiling like it was the time of their lives.

Just like Luxa and me.

Panicking, I immediately searched for the photo in my pockets. My clothes had been changed, I realized. But there was no need, as a small folded card protruded out of my breast pocket.

I took it out and read it. At the front read: 'From Mrs. Cormaci.' I flipped it open, and there it was: the photo of both me and Luxa. There was a caption below that read: 'You two look cute together!' It was Mrs. Cormaci's handwriting.

I blushed slightly, staring at her. Then, for the first time in weeks, I smiled fondly, reminiscing.

But that smile was short lived. A vision of her decapitation quickly consumed my mind. I screamed and flung the card away, landing in the pot. But that wasn't all. Her severed head was floating and laughing crazily, with her wonderful violet eyes fading into an awful black.

Suddenly, she spoke. "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU MADE ME DIE. YOU MADE ME SUFFER. AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!!!"

I screamed again, trying to drown her words with my voice.

_She's just a vision! Don't believe her! She's fake! It's fake! Don't think about it!_

Mrs. Cormaci barged into the room and rushed to me. "Take a deep breath, Gregor! In, out. In, out." While she was speaking, she tried to stop my flailing arms and legs.

But I could still see and hear her. Between my screams, she -- no -- it echoed in my mind.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU DID THIS TO ME! SUFFER! SUFFER LIKE I DID!"

"Shut up, shut up! Get away from me!"

I kicked its head, but my leg passed through it and made contact with Mrs. Cormaci, gutting her right in the stomach. Metal clangs resonated in the room, accompanied with a thud.

The head was disappearing. "I'll see you later, Gregor," it said, softer now, with a creepy smile. It then hovered next to my ear.

"I never loved you anyway," it whispered venomously into my ear, before vanishing completely.

Those words stopped my actions almost immediately. It took me a moment to process them.

She ... never loved me?

_No. No, that's a lie. It was just my imagination. She wasn't real. It wasn't real. Nothing it said was true._

_"Or was it?"_

The dark thoughts returned. I hugged my head.

_No, stop! Stop it! It's just all in my head. All in my head._

But the horrible thoughts insisted, sounding so much like the Bane.

_"She never did love you."_

_What about the times we spent together? We laughed together. We fought together. We ate together._

_"All of those were lies," it spat. "She used you to accomplish her goal: to become Queen. You were her tool. The feelings you had for her were all part of her plan. All your sympathy were for her own benefits."_

_You're lying! She would never do that! She loves me, and I love her!_

_"Do you?" it spat. "Do you really love her? This so-called 'love' you have is foolish and childish. You don't understand love, and you never will. By now, she would already be married to another man, become Queen and won't care less for you. She is royalty and almighty. She will do anything she can to reach her objective. You are just a small step to an even bigger step. You are that inferior. So, tell me. Can a small Overlander boy like yourself love someone like her?"_

_I ..._

A groan distracted me. The Bane stopped talking but still lingered in my head, waiting for its next turn to strike. I cast my thoughts away. I didn't want to think about it, for now.

I searched for the source, which was below. The porridge had spilled onto the floor, with the now soaked photograph sticking out of it. But beside the mess was Mrs. Cormaci, lying down on the floor, limp. I feared for the worse.

_Is - is she dead?_

_"Yes. You killed her."_

I ignored it and rushed towards her, refusing to believe it.

"Mrs. Cormaci! Mrs. Cormaci!"

I grabbed her shoulders to shake her awake, but that only triggered another vision. I saw her arms being ripped off by mine. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get rid of it while still shouting her name continuously, fervently hoping that she would wake up.

_"It's no use. She's dead. You can't do anything about it."_

"You don't know that!"

Just then, I heard something. A sharp inhaling of air. A breath. From her.

_She's alive. She's alive!_

_"For now."_ It then disappeared. I could've sworn that it was chuckling.

I opened my eyes, and I saw a corpse. A living, breathing, bloody body, but dead. Her skin was shriveled, her hair was stark white, and her clothes were ragged and torn. Her body was emitting some sort of light. Everything else was dark.

Then, she coughed heavily, and everything was back to normal. Her hair was back to light gray, her skin wasn't that wrinkly anymore, and her clothes were back to what it was before. The vision I had not realized before was gone. I knew that there would be more to come, but I could deal with that later.

I took the cup of water that I hadn't drunk yet and gave her a sip as I lifted her upper body upright. She gulped once and coughed again, lighter this time, fortunately. She drank till the last drop, then gasped for air.

"Mrs. Cormaci, are you okay?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, I'm fine, young man. Just need to..." She staggered up on her own and stretched her back. "Ah, there we go. That was quite a shock, don't you think?" she said, rubbing her belly and wincing in pain, but still showing her usual smile.

"I...  _What?_ " I was confused. My growing guilt wasn't helping. "Are - are you not going to question me  _kicking_  you down?"

"Why would I, dear?"

Now I was really confused. Was this the same Mrs. Cormaci I knew? "Am I hallucinating?"

She tapped my nose, in which I reflexively staggered back and tripped backward on the bed. "See?" she said. "I'm as real as I get!"

I had so many questions in my head, but could only manage one out of my mouth. "How?"

She sighed and sat beside me, her smile now gone. "How should I begin this?" She thought for a while. "What do you know about Mr. Cormaci?"

"He's a soldier and likes baseball?"

"Well, yes. But not just any soldier. He's a war veteran." She took a deep breath. "He is... was very loyal to his country and would fight for it no matter what. His dedication earned him to a high ranking position. I was so proud of him."

Tears started to leak out of Mrs. Cormaci's eyes. She wiped them away and continued. "But that also meant lesser time to spend with his family. And when he came back, he wasn't the same man anymore. He still was loving and kind and caring, but I knew something was wrong with him. On the night he came back, he started having nightmares, worse than his previous ones. He was screaming and yelling, and all I could do was hug him and comfort him with words, hoping that they could calm him down."

I nodded understandingly. So that's why she knew what to do when I was ... panicking.

"It worked, but it got worse. When we could go out as a family, he acted ... weird. He was always glancing around, trying to use his pocket knife on his belt. He would randomly pin people down and threaten them to surrender their weapons, even though they didn't have any. I had to pull him out and apologize to them. I knew he was hallucinating, but I didn't ask. I was too afraid of him. It was when we went back home was when I had the courage to ask. He said that he was fine at first, but I knew that he was lying. After countless attempts, he finally told me."

"You see, war can affect you in many ways, good and bad. I know that you already know this, but you should know more since you're young. When you kill an enemy, you get that satisfaction of winning. But it's how the enemy dies by you that haunts you. Their facial expression of how they see you before they die. My husband was sent to the front lines, unfortunately. He saw plenty of enemies and allies killed. Every ally corpse he saw, he would hate himself for letting them die. That's what destroyed him inside. That's what made me decide to let him face his inner demons alone. He even wanted me to."

Mrs. Cormaci sighed heavily, which added more tears. She didn't wipe them off this time. "But that was a horrible mistake. The day after our conversation, he had to go back. And that was the last time I saw him."

"He died out there. By his own comrades. They said that he was attacking them while they were scouting and that they had no choice but to shoot him. The doctors couldn't cure him, but he still begged to go to the front lines." Mrs. Cormaci slammed her fist onto her leg. "I didn't know why I had let him suffer on his own in the first place!"

I stared at Mrs. Cormaci sympathetically. I had never seen this vulnerable side of Mrs. Cormaci before. I didn't know that she was going through that much trouble. My hand reached out to her back, wanting to pat her to comfort her, but right after it touched her back, another vision appeared. I saw my hand plunging into Mrs. Cormaci's back and tearing her spine out of her body, with her face full of distraught and disbelief. Her head turned to face me, whispering ever so softly; "Why?"

I jerked my hand away from her, and the vision stopped. She turned to me, her face now filled with pity, now without tears. "I know you're dealing with them too, but after seeing you resembling so much like him, I was scared. I thought that you were going to end up like him."

"I won't, Mrs. Cormaci," I said, trying to reassure her. I was telling the truth. I wouldn't be like him. I would be far worse than him.

But Mrs. Cormaci spotted my half-truth immediately. "No. You're  _lying_. Just like your sister Lizzie."

That sparked my interest. "What did she say?"

"She said that a burglar had snuck into your apartment and had hurt your mother and father. I was out buying groceries, and when I came back, there was an ambulance outside, with people putting your parents onto stretchers. Lizzie saw me and told me that story and pleaded me to take care of you. She then went into the ambulance with Boots. I came into your room and saw you lying on your bed, and, well, here you are."

While I was silent, she continued. "I saw the injuries, Gregor. Cuts on your father and wounds on your mother. A deep wound on your arm and skin tearing on your forehead, and now a bleeding wound." She eyed at the bandage on my arm. But Lizzie and Boots were fine." She suddenly held my hand, an action which I visibly flinched at. "Tell me the truth, Gregor. You've told me about the Underland and have never lied to me since then, so why now?"

There it was again. The same, pleading tone I had heard from Dad. I had lied to him, and that resulted in me almost killing him. But what if I told the truth? What would happen then? Would the conclusion be the same, or...

I decided to risk it. She should know.

"I... I have this--" Just as I had said that word, my teeth clenched onto my tongue with the familiar buzz, drawing blood. Mrs. Cormaci noticed it straight away and dashed out, saying that she would get some ice.

When she left, I thought about it. The bite. It didn't feel like it was accidental. It felt ... like a reflex. Like something wanted me to not say it.

Before I could think any further, Mrs. Cormaci charged in with a tray of ice cubes and a cloth. She wrapped a cube with it, told me to stick out my tongue, and applied pressure to it. It didn't hurt, but it felt numb. She commanded me to hold it myself and proceeded to treat my gaping wound on my arm with medicine that was already on the shelf. Again, it didn't hurt, but it stung a little.

After she was done with the treatment, she checked my body for any more injuries. She then hesitated to talk, then said "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Keep the cloth on your tongue until you can feel it." And with that, she left the room.

I looked at the window. It was already dark. I was getting tired. My eyes were droopy. I laid down on the bed with the cloth still in my mouth and sighed. Today was one hell of a roller coaster ride. So much pain and suffering. So many emotions spilling out. So much ... rage.

I hugged myself with the blanket and wept, soaking it. I wept for Mrs. Cormaci. I cried for my family. And I bawled my eyes out for myself, for all of the atrocious acts I had done. I slept together with the welcoming nightmares and crushing guilt, hoping that one day, someday, someone would end this horror show. That someday, someone would end my life.

*

Mrs. Cormaci's shouting woke me up. The cloth was still in my mouth. I took it out and strained my ears to hear her, curious to know what was going on. But I could only hear bits and pieces.

"... can I explain to ... what should he do?... Yes... Yes, I am... Alright. Thank you. Goodbye." Then a slam. The way she said 'Goodbye' gave me a bad vibe. I heard footsteps coming to the room. I didn't pretend to sleep. I sat upright and faced the door, preparing for whatever news Mrs. Cormaci would tell me.

She opened the door with a creak, and her face said it all. Puffy eyes, dried tears, and a frown. It meant bad news.

_Oh god no. Please don't say what I think you're going to say._

She seemed slightly surprised that I was awake, but that lasted for only a second. "Gregor," she said, almost on the brink of tears. "I... have bad news." She gulped nervously. "Your mother ... She..."

"No!" I yelled, interrupting her. "Don't say it!" I turned away from her and covered my ears. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear anything.

"Gregor, please! You need to know!"

I shook my head in desperation.

"Listen to me! Gregor!" She suddenly held my wrists. The buzz returned. I swiftly turned around and stared at her in fear. I needed to end this quickly before I hurt someone again.

She let go. "You have to suffer now than later. It's hard, but it's worth it." I nodded on the outside, but inside, I was screaming at her to hurry it up. She took a deep breath.

"Grace committed suicide."

With those words, the screaming warped into silence. Forever.


End file.
